


Firelight

by silverandviolet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, House Baratheon, POV Third Person Limited, R plus L equals J, fem!Renly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverandviolet/pseuds/silverandviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Renly Baratheon is born female.<br/>(PoV: Stannis)</p><p>  <i>“We bring them down,” she says, soft and yet fierce. “We bring them down, from the inside.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [1949](http://archiveofourown.org/users/1949/pseuds/1949) for the beta job and to everyone on alternatehistory.com for introducing me to the world of AH fanfics.
> 
> The amazing AO3 member Dinara has translated this to Russian, and it can be found [HERE](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3662895)! Thank you, my lady :)

**i. The Boy**

****He is three and ten when she is born; a tender little bundle with lush black hair and gleaming blue eyes. He does not think much of siblings, with Robert around to ruin all the good there is at Storm’s End, but one glimpse at the babe and Stannis knows she is better than an obnoxious elder brother can ever be.

“Do you want to hold her, Stannis?” his mother asks. Cassana Baratheon, born Estermont, with her doe-shaped eyes and soft brown hair, is to him the only woman that matters until his newborn sister is older and a woman in her own right. She, he knows, will be more beautiful than all the Stormlander maidens that sometimes visit the castle, and more beautiful especially than the Stark girl Robert wants to replace Mother with.

So with caution and care he takes the babe from his mother’s hands, treating her almost like brittle glass.  _Robert has no idea what he is missing_ , he thinks, as the babe looks back at him with a wide Baratheon gaze.

“Does… Does she have a name?” he asks quietly.

From the corner of his eye, he sees his mother exchange a look with his father, standing quietly on the other side of the mattress.

“Not yet,” his father replies. “Would you like to name her?”

Stannis looks up, instantly at a loss. “ _Me_? Name my sister?”

His mother nods, smiling. “Why not?”

At that moment, it is as though the gods have wiped his memory of Baratheon family names. The few he remembers do not suit the babe.  _Jocelyn… no. Argella? No. Shireen, perhaps? Or instead…_  He suddenly recalls one of Maester Cressen’s books and the Durrandon woman who had been the true power behind the throne of her cousin and husband, Storm King Arlan the First.

“Reanna,” he announces. It is not only the name of an ancestor now, but the name of his own sister. “Reanna Baratheon.”

**ii. The Son**

****“You understand why we have to go, don’t you?” his father asks, though Stannis thinks it is rather pointless. _Of course_ he knows why his parents have to leave for the Free Cities.

“The king asked you of it,” he answers, nonetheless. While he does not want to be left alone in Storm’s End with only little Reanna and old Great-Uncle Harbert for company, he knows why it has to be so.

His father nods. “Indeed, and it is my duty to go through with it. Prince Rhaegar is in need of a bride, and as his cousin, the king trusts me the most.”

Alas, Robert is not one for talks of duty or trust. Impatiently, he asks, “Well, you  _must_ write to me, either way!” At six and ten, he is almost as tall as their father, but the way he behaves often makes him seem like a boy of eight.

Their lady mother lets out a soft, almost musical laugh. “Of course we will, Robert. And to you too, Stannis. You could even read our letters to Reanna.”

“Why would I do that?” This seems senseless to him. “It is not as though she is going to understand them.”

Then it is Robert who laughs. “Stannis!” he exclaims, unable to control himself. “Must you always be so…  _you_?”

Even his parents look like they are barely controlling their laughter. “Just… Look after your sister, won’t you?” his mother says finally, stepping forward to hug him. He is slow to return it, his mind on Robert who is still roaring with laughter beside him.

“Yes,” he tells his mother. “I’ll look after her.”

“We shall be back in Shipbreaker Bay before you know it,” his father promises. “It will almost be as though we were never gone at all.”

Stannis very much doubts it, but refrains from commenting. He only gives a stiff nod in response as his mother moves to hug Robert.

“Listen to Maester Cressen and Uncle Harbert,” Steffon Baratheon instructs. “Don’t leave the keep without guards. And for the love of the gods, don’t fight with each other.”

_As if that will not happen. You know better than that, Father_ , Stannis thinks, but he doesn’t say the words aloud. “I… Stay safe, Mother, Father,” he says instead. Stannis will not know until many months later, but they are the last words he ever says to them.

**iii. The Orphan**

****When the letter comes, Stannis does not feel a thing.

His sister is only two namedays old, a child reared by nursemaids and Maesters, elder brothers and great-uncles and lackwit fools. A girl lighting up Storm’s End with her laughter and yet a girl with no memory of her parents; a girl who would never remember Steffon Baratheon’s smile or Cassana Estermont’s touch. A girl whose fate is being sealed by two old men seated with him -- and yet, Stannis does not feel a thing.

People who know him well will later muse that the day the  _Windproud_ went down was the day he stopped knowing emotion of any kind. He will silently agree with them.

“We cannot deny him, of course,” Ser Harbert is saying. He is a large man with Baratheon features, an older version of Stannis’ own father, but Stannis can’t say he has ever quite liked him. “Aerys phrases it as a request, but what the king wishes for, he expects us to give, whether willingly or not.”

“It is as you say,” Maester Cressen agrees. “And yet, the lady is far too young. It has only been a year since… well…”

He feels both their eyes on him, an uneasy expression on Ser Harbert’s face and a soothing one on Cressen’s. Why they treat him like a child is beyond him.

“You can say it in front of me, you know,” he grunts. “ _It has only been a year since Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana died._  There. Wasn’t difficult, was it?”

There is an uncomfortable silence, broken by Cressen’s racking cough. “I must wonder, however, why His Grace wishes for a betrothal now. Surely it can be done when Lady Reanna and Prince Viserys are older?”

“The Seven only know what goes on in Aerys’ mind,” Ser Harbert says grimly, a contrast to his usual jolly countenance. “And after Duskendale, I fear he becomes increasingly paranoid as the days pass.”

That much is true. Stannis has heard the whispers of passing hedge knights and minstrels. They call him King Scab and speak at length of how he has rejected not only a Dornish princess’ suit for his heir, but also his own Lord Hand’s fair daughter’s as well.  _And now he wants Reanna to marry his spare…_

“Reanna might be Queen one day, no?” he wonders aloud.

“There is a chance,” Maester Cressen nods approvingly. “Ah, of course. Reanna is too young for Prince Rhaegar, but with the Princess Rhaelle’s Targaryen blood in her. Perhaps King Aerys means for young Viserys and his children to be Rhaegar’s heirs.”

Ser Harbert wrinkles his nose. “How could I  _ever_ forget Targaryen incest,” he drawls lightly. “Nevertheless, we must write to Robert, so he can send his approval. Cressen, if you would--?”

 _Much ado about nothing_ , Stannis decides. “No,” he says, sighing. “I’ll write to him.”

**iv. The Spare**

****The hall is abuzz with excitement, everyone celebrating the homecoming of their lord. Arbor Golds, Dornish Reds, sparkling Volantene wines -- they all flow freely, coveted companions to the gayness and merriness in the room. Great-Uncle Harbert joyously converses with the Dowager Lady Mertyns; Jeyne Swann and the Morrigen girls gossip in a corner. Even Robert is engrossed, sipping ale as he gleefully feeds five nameday old Reanna sitting so cosily in his lap.

 _Even you prefer him to me, don’t you?_  Stannis thinks uncharitably. He doesn’t admit it often, not even to himself, but Reanna choosing Robert grates at him more than it should.

“You should’ve been there, Stannis.” Robert is laughing along with their sister’s giggles. “You should’ve seen Lady Anisa. Even  _you_ would’ve found it hard to keep your cock in your breeches!”

Stannis grits his teeth. He sincerely doubts that he would have found Lady Anisa Whent or the fruitless tourney organised in her honour as interesting as Robert claims.

“I don’t think so,” he says. Somehow, that only makes his brother howl more.

“Oh, seven hells!” Robert swears, laughing. “I’d forgotten how  _boring_ you were.”

Stannis does not find it amusing, but Reanna giggles along.  _What do you know of this? You’re just a little girl, aren’t you? We shall see how many tantrums you’ll throw when you find that your brothers have betrothed you to marry a pampered prince._

He certainly does not wish for his siblings to get married. Marriage means Reanna will leave for King’s Landing, alone in an unknown place. Marriage means Robert will come back to Storm’s End with that Stark girl of his, and Stannis will have to regularly contend with him then. He is not even sure of what will happen to him once Lady Lyanna bears Robert a trueborn heir and he is no longer required.  _My future is Robert’s to dictate_ , Stannis considers. _How is that even fair?_

His line of thought is interrupted, however, when Maester Cressen arrives, his face an amalgamation of shock, incredulity and worry. 

“Lord Robert, there is something you must see,” he whispers frantically, catching Stannis’ attention.

“Hold on, Cressen!” Robert says, ruffling Reanna’s dark hair. While he begins to finish his wine and puts Reanna down, Stannis is the one who stands up, giving Cressen a questioning look. Wordlessly, he is passed a letter, written by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen to “the most honourable Lord of Storm’s End”.

It is that night that Stannis discovers how not everything had been per Robert’s wishes at Harrenhal. And for better or for worse, the one stain on the otherwise beautiful canvas of Lord Whent’s tourney has now come back to haunt him.

**v. The Lord**

_For worse_ , he thinks later.  _Certainly for worse._  He had not loved Robert anymore than he had been required to; yet, he had still been his brother and it stings to see the blackened floor of the throne room. Reanna clutches his hand tightly just as he remembers having clutched Robert’s when their lord father had brought them to King’s Landing and he finds himself sighing. It seems like so many years ago now.

 _But it_  was  _many years ago_ , a voice in his head whispers. 

The court is an assembly of vividly dressed lords and ladies, all of them sneaking looks at Stannis and his sister.  _Look away_ , he wants to shout at them.  _We have nothing to hide. We are not oathbreakers like your new princess and her family; we are not madmen like the so-called king that burnt our brother alive. We are not opportunists like your beloved Prince Regent and nor are we traitors like you seem to believe Robert was._

He bends down so Reanna’s face is level with his. For a moment he doesn’t know what to say.  _We are the stags of Storm’s End and we_ will _stand tall_ , he thinks, but it is only a thought. “Be strong,” he tells his sister, squeezing her tiny hand, and with that, they begin -- but it is not King Aerys on the throne.

“All hail the Prince Regent of the Iron Throne, Rhaegar of the House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone!”

Stannis glares at the court herald announcing Rhaegar’s arrival.  _Aerys, his son, all of them are the same breed. One absconded with my brother’s bride and the other went a step too far in protecting his family name._  The sooner he can get out of the city, the better.

He and his sister are soon presented before the Prince Regent and his court, two orphans in a pit of vipers and scoundrels. They do not belong here; not so few feet away from the place the mad king had ordered their elder brother burnt to the crisp.  _At least he is locked away now._ Looking to Rhaegar, though…  _How better off are we now, if at all?_

“Lord Stannis,” the Prince Regent acknowledges.  _Oh, you enjoy it, don’t you? Sitting on the seat you stole from your father?_ Idly, Stannis wonders where exactly Rhaegar has locked Aerys up after Robert’s ‘execution’ and the Prince’s Coup, as it is being called. 

“My royal father branded you a traitor before the realm,” the man says. “However, as you must be aware, His Grace is confined to his chambers due to his advanced age, and as his regent, I do not believe you capable of treason.” Rhaegar turns to the new Hand, his own goodfather. “Lord Rickard agrees with me, but unfortunately, the accusations that you colluded with your brother to undermine the Iron Throne are still very much present. What say you to these charges?”

Stannis swallows.  _I had almost considered rebellion when the news had first arrived at Storm’s End. What say you to that, oh Prince Regent?_ “Wrongful execution and the crown’s incompetence are reasons enough to spark rebellion,” he had thought aloud to Maester Cressen, but then an picture of Reanna had crossed his mind and he had decided against it.  _For her sake I have to bear the brunt of it all, unlawful as it is._

“False charges, Your Grace,” Stannis says clearly. “My sister and I had no part in…” So much of him protests, but he has to go on. “... my brother’s treasons.”

Rhaegar nods. “And do you solemnly swear that you shall henceforth be a loyal subject of the Iron Throne, a leal lord to my father His Grace and the heirs of House Targaryen after him? Do you swear that you will not waver from your duty; that you will answer the calls of your liege in time of need; that you will stay by the side of the crown through thick and through thin?”

“I do so swear.”

“Very well,” the Prince Regent approves. Then, almost as an afterthought, he goes on, “Do you recognise the betrothal between Lyanna of the House Stark and Robert of the House Baratheon to be null and void, and to have always been so, due to the existence of the Pact of Ice and Fire -- an arguably stronger and greater betrothal contract?”

 _Very like you, isn’t it, to prattle knowledge of history to squirm out of trouble?_  Stannis internally snorts, but acquiesces. “I recognise it.”

“Then kneel, Stannis Baratheon.” And as furious as it makes him, he obeys, because whatever else, he cannot risk Reanna’s life for madmen’s games.  _I apologise, Robert, but this is how it is._  “And rise as Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.”

**vi. The Husband**

****Cersei Lannister is a beautiful woman, to be sure. It is only that he had never envisioned getting married at all, let alone to someone like her. When he admits it to her one morning in a fit of rage, she looks at him as though he were little better than one of the scullery maids.

“I had not envisioned you as a husband either,” she says icily.

Stannis grunts. “Of course not,” he throws back at her. “Likely you had imagined yourself as our beloved Prince Regent’s princess, but Lyanna Stark took that away, didn’t she?”

The new Lady of Storm’s End, he can’t help but think, is a poor successor to his mother. She narrows her poisonous green eyes at him. “Do not pretend to know me, Stannis,” she snaps.

They do not get along.

Perhaps it is the fact that they are both starkly different people, or it is the fact that they are both immensely unsatisfied with their lot in life. Either way, Cersei is the night to Stannis’ day and the anarchy to his order. She is everything he would not want in a wife gifted to him by the generous Lord Tywin in Lannister finery and Westerlander gold. 

“Did I hurt Lady Cersei in any way?” Reanna whispers to him a few months after the wedding, “She is so  _pretty_ , Stannis, but she never  _talks_ to me!”

“Prettiness is not everything, Reanna,” Stannis sighs, tired of repeating the evils of vanity to the girl. 

Later, however, he does ask Cersei. 

“Am I obligated to talk to that little chit in any way?” his wife questions in a bored manner that irritates him to no end. 

“She is no little chit, woman,” he says, glaring daggers at her. “She is my sister, and you better learn to treat her better, or there shall be no man in the Seven Kingdoms worse than me.”

Cersei smiles smugly. “Oh, but my lord,” she says, amused. “There already  _is_ no man in the Seven Kingdoms worse than you.”

**vii. The Father**

****As much as she barely scrapes through her other duties, however, Stannis’ wife does manage to get with child and give birth -- not to the son he needs, but to a pair of twin girls he cannot help but be fascinated by. It almost feels like he is three and ten again, watching Reanna for the first time.

“They look like you,” Cersei comments as she sees him by the crib where the babes rest -- both raven-haired, but one with forest green eyes and the other with sea blue ones. Stannis gingerly picks up his little green-eyed daughter and for a moment only gazes into her eyes. 

“Not this one,” he replies. She may not have the golden hair of her mother, but this daughter of his has Cersei’s nose and her lips, and from what he can see, her ears as well.

“Joanna,” his wife corrects him. “Her name is Joanna.”

Stannis’ eyes fly to his other daughter, peacefully sleeping. “And her?” When he had learnt of Cersei’s pregnancy and considered the possibility of the babe being a girl, he had hoped he would be able to name her. Now, he will loathe fighting with Cersei when she has only just given birth, however…

“Cassana, I was thinking.”

He looks up in shock. His wife is a shrew, but on her face is no cruel jape or jest of any kind. She means it.

“Cassana and Joanna Baratheon,” he says aloud. Stannis suddenly realises that he does not truly mind the absence of a male heir; not at that moment. Cersei, to his surprise, is faintly smiling.

It is one of the last few days of spring that season. When summer blooms, their relationship blooms with it, beginning anew.

**viii. The Subject**

****The Targaryen family experiences two deaths in a passage of four months, and through it all, Reanna stands strong.

“Viserys was my  _friend_ ,” she sniffs in response to a heavily pregnant Cersei’s questions. “I was to marry him and be a princess, but he just  _had_ to go and die. I  _told_ him not to race Prince Lewyn’s horse, but he didn’t listen! Even Queen Rhaella admitted to me that it was his own fault. So  _stupid_.”

Stannis doubts it. “What did I tell you about titles, Reanna?” he asks, grinding his teeth. “It is the  _Dowager Queen_  Rhaella now, as King Rhaegar’s wife is the queen.”

“Dow-eh-juh,” two nameday old Joanna says. It is among her favorite things to do, repeating others' words.

“Oh, I don’t like her,” Reanna announces, wrinkling her nose. “Queen Lyanna, I mean. She’s  _nothing_ like a queen ought to be.”

He thinks he sees his wife give him an amused glance, but he lets it be. By now, he has a very strong suspicion that Lord Tywin had approached King Rhaegar before Harrenhal for a clandestine betrothal with Cersei and support to take Aerys down, but it had been rejected in favour of Lyanna Stark’s wild northern beauty.  _My wife might have been Queen in another life_ , he thinks.  _But what might I have been?_

For the time being, however, it is more important to determine what happens to Reanna, now that Viserys is no longer a variable. Rhaegar has declined Stannis’ demands to betroth her to his son Aegon, but that is not all.

“So he means to say that her fostering was in place regardless of the betrothal?” Cersei asks when he shows her the letter that has arrived with his sister from King’s Landing. The Dowager Queen has been the one doing the actual fostering for two years, but from the letter, it is evident that Rhaegar considers himself in charge even for such small matters.

“I do not understand that man,” Stannis admits, grinding his teeth. “Once upon a time, I believed the whispers and thought him intelligent and capable. He absconded with that queen of his, and I thought him foolish. He as good as usurped his father, and I thought him cunning. He let your father coax us into this marriage of ours, and I thought him slow. Now, however, I do not know what to think of him.”  
  
“Let us not forget when he let my brother go back to Casterly Rock, disregarding those oaths he’d taken,” Cersei reminds him coolly. He suspects that her twin becoming heir to the Rock after having donned the Kingsguard cloak still irks her.  _Perhaps she wanted a child of ours to have the honour, with the Imp so discredited in his own family._  “Why do you think he must have done that? Or anything else?”

In spite of himself, Stannis laughs. It is a dry, bitter laugh that reverberates through the chamber. “That is just it, my lady,” he says. “I have absolutely no idea.”

**ix. The Visitor**

****He loves his sister.

Fifteen nameday old Reanna, her eyes an echo of Steffon Baratheon and her face the ghost of Cassana Estermont come alive. Even with his twins, and Arlan and Myrcella after them, it is Reanna he thinks about the most. 

“I hope King’s Landing is not too harsh on you,” he says, greeting her when he visits. Cersei’s idea, not his: it is his wife that thrives at court, after all. They have arrived for Prince Aegon’s eighth nameday celebration, in truth, but Stannis cares only for meeting his sister.

“Harsh on me?” Reanna repeats. She is nearly a woman grown, wearing dresses fashioned in Highgarden and jewellery from Essos. “No, Brother, I  _adore_ it here.”

Stannis raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” He does not understand.

Reanna comes forward and takes his hands in hers, not noticing how uncomfortable it makes him. She has grown rather tall as well, he realises, as she stares right into his eyes. “ _Yes_ , Stannis,” she smiles. “The court is such a  _lovely_ place. The ladies love me, too, and they are  _so_ much fun to be with!”

He frowns. “And Queen Lyanna?” Even after all these years, it is hard to think of his brother’s impudent, unworthy betrothed as Queen, but homage must be paid to her as due.

His sister beams. “Oh, we get along  _splendidly_!” Reanna exclaims, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I am her  _favourite_ companion, in fact.”

There is blatant dishonesty in her words that makes Stannis flinch. “Why do you speak like that?” he asks.  _When did you become so… false?_

“I know not what you talk about,” Reanna says airily, taking a step back. Stannis snorts.

“Oh, certainly,” he retorts. “Just as you know nothing about Willas Tyrell, I presume?”

Reanna’s eyes begin twinkling again.  _This better not be some court trick, Sister._  “Willas is only… a  _friend_ ,” she answers. He looks for any sign of deception, but at least this time, there seems none. “How would you know about Willas?”

“Everyone with half a wit and a bannerman in King’s Landing knows that the boy considers himself worthy of your suit.”

She appears to think. “True enough, I suppose.” Glancing at him, she asks, “Do  _you_ think him worthy of my suit?”

Reanna is toying with him and he knows it, and yet, her smile compels him to sigh. “We shall see, Sister,” he concedes. “I shall talk with the boy, and further, we shall see.”

**x. The Brother**

****“ _Edmure Tully_?” 

Reanna nearly spits her wine out. Stannis watches her with mild boredom; Cersei with very thinly veiled disgust. Young Prince Aegon, eight namedays old, is being toasted to by his father and mother. Most of the boy’s northern family is here, including arrogant Brandon Stark and his brood. The only notable exception is the object of much of Stannis' boyhood envy, Robert's friend Ned, who had taken oaths as a Black Brother years ago.

“Edmure Tully.” the Lord of Storm’s End nods. He does not feel any guilt at Reanna’s scorned look. Willas Tyrell had seemed too much like their good king for his own good, anyway.

“I cannot  _believe_ you!” Reanna stamps out in her rage. A few neighbouring tables glance at them, causing his sister to lower her volume. “I tell you to do  _one_ thing for me, and you fail at it too. I wish  _I_ was the Lord of Storm’s End and not  _you_.”

She walks away from him and Cersei, furious. Stannis turns to his wife to see her smirking. “What is it with you, then, my lady?” he asks, annoyed. 

“Oh, nothing at all,” she answers, but her eyes signal to the corner of the hall Reanna has stomped to. A young girl, dainty and bright, wearing a dress lined with dark red apples, is in deep conversation with her. Stannis does not understand what his wife means to tell him. There is something suspicious about the way his sister grips her friend's hands, definitely, but he looks over it, thinking it a common gesture here in King's Landing.

“I could not do anything,” he attempts, in a bid to explain himself. “The king wishes for all Baratheons to be kept close to him, I think, and he does not want Reanna at Highgarden. Lord Tully is as staunch a supporter of the crown as any.”

Near the high table, the Master of Laws, Jon Connington, is looking in on a discussion between his wife, Lady Lysa -- a Tully by birth -- and the new Master of Coin, a lowborn Valeman or another.

Cersei rolls her eyes moodily. She has been sulking since her meeting with her brother Ser Jaime’s wife, Lady Leranne. “I  _know_ , Stannis,” she says, swirling her glass of wine. “You tried your best. I know.”

**xi. The Stranger**

****“She did _what_?” 

The messenger has arrived at the crack of dawn from King’s Landing, and he is clearly in need of rest. Yet Stannis cannot stop himself from gleaning as much information from the man as possible.

“Att--Attempted to wed Ser Willas Tyrell, milord,” the man says. “In the cover of the night, despite being betrothed to Ser Edmure Tully.” He has rehearsed his lines well. Stannis makes a mental note to give him some extra coin.

He grinds his teeth thinking back to the message, however.  _What is it with her?_ “You may go,” he decrees, and snatches away the letter from the messenger's hands. It is written in the elegant, sophisticated hand of King Rhaegar the First himself.

“There must have been a witness to this, my lord,” Cressen prompts faithfully. He is an old man now, but Stannis relies on him just as much as before. “Does the letter note--?”

“The goldcloaks saw them,” he answers, skimming through the letter. “Reanna, Willas Tyrell, Tyrell’s brother Garlan and a Fossoway girl. They were attempting to sneak into a local sept with a septon ready to perform a ceremony for them.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Cressen voices. “But this sounds… a tad  _fantastical_ , I daresay. Would the lady Reanna ever…?”

 _I don’t know_ , is Stannis’ desperate thought.  _I don’t know what Reanna would do. King’s Landing transformed her into a stranger; someone I no longer recognise._

“That matters not now, does it?” He clucks. “Queen Lyanna arranged for her to depart for Riverrun with haste. Hoster Tully being Hoster Tully, he might decide to have the wedding as soon as possible.”

“While that is most unfortunate, I must suggest --” 

But Stannis does not want to hear anything. “Keep your suggestions to yourself, Cressen,” he says, interrupting. “I wish to be alone.”

**xii. The Stag of Storm’s End**

****And so it is that when it happens, his life comes a full circle. It all feels familiar to him; not even a tale from another life but a memory from this very one.

 _I should have expected this_ , he thinks, cursing himself for it. His wife’s dwarf brother is seated with the Maester, a grim face on him for once, and the two of them whisper in his presence as though he were invisible.

“ _Vanished_?” asks Tyrion Lannister. He does not believe it. Neither does Stannis himself.

“Indeed, my lord,” Cressen answers gravely. “The Lord Tully is scouring his lands for these bandits, and King Rhaegar has sent him more men for the same. They do fear, however…”

_No, this is far too sudden. It cannot have happened like this. Not so... so strangely._

“Who else was with her?”

A pause. Cressen hunches over the letter once more. “It says… Ah, yes. Lady Reanna, Lady Gwyn Farring, Lady Wylla Buckler, and… Oh, Lady Leonette Fossoway.”

 _Leonette Fossoway. Why have I heard that name before?_  “Cressen, this Leonette Fossoway,” he says. “Is she the same woman who conspired with my sister for that little wedding escapade of theirs?”

“Yes, my lord,” Cressen says, nodding. “The very same.”

An image resurfaces in his memory, of Reanna at Prince Aegon’s nameday after he had told her of her betrothal to Edmure Tully. Cersei smirking at his sister in conversation with a dainty girl with red apples on her gown.  _Red apples of House Fossoway, then?_

“What are…” Stannis hesitates. He has long learnt not to hope, not to pray to the gods, and yet…  _My lord father and lady mother, gone. Robert, gone. Now even Reanna._  “What are the chances she will be found?”

No one answers. He turns back to face Cressen and his goodbrother, both of them looking at him with some amounts of pity. “What is it?” he snaps. “Maester, tell me. What are the chances Reanna is still alive and well?”

Cressen breathes a sigh. He knows how Stannis values honest counsel. ”Very… Very few, my lord.”

He walks the length of the solar, feeling his legs as numb as the rest of him. It is impossible. How can it be?  _This is Rhaegar, there must be some trick to this, some reason…_  Finally, Stannis stops by the hearth in the room, staring at it as he can faintly hear the other two in the solar whisper with a new arrival he can’t bother to turn and glare at.

_Vanished in the riverlands… Bandits… No, Queen Lyanna sent her and her companions to Riverrun once she was discovered with the Tyrell heir. Aye, it is a right shame… Truthfully, she may not have survived…_

Why is this happening at all? It scares Stannis that where once they had been five, now it is only him left. His parents, drowned. His brother, burnt to death. His sister, vanished, and very possibly dead.

 _Is this some kind of wicked jest, Rhaegar?_ Stannis grinds his teeth harder and harder every the second, imagining the face of the manipulative scum he continues to pay fealty to after everything.  _It is all their fault_ , he thinks.  _The Targaryens and their bloated egos. Aerys sent my parents on a wild grumpkin chase; Rhaegar stole away my brother’s bride and did nothing as his father announced wildfire as a champion at trial. And then he sent my sister right into the home of these so-called bandits, all because she wished to get away from a match he arranged._

He should have rebelled. He knows that now. Long years ago, he had decided to bend the knee and accept Targaryen rule despite its signs of decay -- all for Reanna and her safety.  _What good did that ever do me? Reanna is no more and I am back where I began._

Stannis does not know how long he stands there, staring at the firelight, glaring it at as though doing so will give him the answers he wants.  _What did I ever do to deserve this? Have I not been a good son, a good brother, a good enough husband and father?_  Joanna, Cassana, Arlan and Myrcella… He fears for his children's lives, as unfounded that worry is.  _Still, there was no foundation once to fear for Reanna, and yet, here I am._ Idly, he wonders if this is this is what loss feels like.

The sun has set when Cersei comes to him, still standing by the fires, still waiting for answers. She whispers to him a treasonous song about his grandmother Rhaelle and King Rhaegar having only one male heir. Her golden hair glints in the light and he curses himself for ever agreeing to Tywin Lannister’s proposal.

“What you speak of…” Stannis mutters, “It goes against the law. It goes against everything I believe in.”

“Mayhaps,” she frowns. “Mayhaps not.”

There is a flash of his mother, his father, Robert and Reanna in the fire.

“I do not want our children to suffer, Stannis.” This is what had first made them amicable to each other. She loves their children unconditionally like a lioness and her cubs, and Stannis loves them too, in his own way.

He sighs.  _I was a boy when I swore those oaths to Rhaegar. I am a boy no longer._  “What do you propose we do, then?”

Cersei moves closer and looks from him to the firelight.  _What do you see in its depths, my lady?_  he wonders, but waits for her to answer.

“We bring them down,” she says, soft and yet fierce. “We bring them down, from the inside.”

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The structure as well as the premise is inspired by Sera dy Relandrant's [The Suit of Cups](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7138126/1/The-Suit-of-Cups), which explores a world where Robert Baratheon was born female.
> 
> 2\. In case it isn't clear, by betrothing Viserys to Reanna and rejecting all the proposals Rhaegar has received, Aerys was essentially plotting to make sure that offspring from Viserys' more dragonblooded marriage will be his heirs.
> 
> 3\. While I am not fond of Cersei's PoVs in the books, I am a firm believer that she is as much a product of her environment as she isn't. With a husband giving her enough space and a pretty decent life otherwise, I see her as not as far gone as in canon. Stannis/Cersei has always me intrigued as a pairing dynamic, so there's that as well. And what's to say that Cersei isn't faking it this whole time, and that she hasn't been plotting behind her husband's back this whole time? ;)
> 
> 4\. With the correct impetus, yes, I truly believe that Stannis would be capable of at least considering a form of treason/lawlessness. And here his entire family save for his kids has been wiped out directly or indirectly by the Targaryens. As good a reason as any, IMO.
> 
> 5\. Other than that, I've left a _lot_ ambiguous and up to the reader's imagination -- including but not limited to the suspicious circumstances of Viserys' death, the truth of Reanna's relationship with Willas and Leonette, and of course the very cliffhanger-y ending. 
> 
> To clarify, here is the (legitimate) lineage for House Baratheon.
> 
> -Steffon Baratheon, drowned in Shipbreaker Bay (246-278)  
> -m. Cassana Estermont, drowned in Shipbreaker Bay (248-278)  
> \----Robert Baratheon, doused in wildfire by King Aerys II, formerly betrothed to Lyanna Stark (262-282)  
> \----Stannis Baratheon (264-)  
> \----m. Cersei Lannister (266-)  
> \-------Joanna Baratheon, Cassana's twin (284-)  
> \-------Cassana Baratheon, Joanna's twin [ _an alternate Shireen_ ] (284-)  
> \-------Arlan Baratheon (286-)  
> \-------Myrcella Baratheon (290-)  
> \----Reanna Baratheon, formerly betrothed to Viserys Targaryen, later betrothed to Edmure Tully; vanished in the Riverlands (277-293)


End file.
